I couldn’t breathe, and while that would induce panic in most people, it didn’t in me.
Sure, there was an underlying sense of unease. No oxygen was entering my blood, my lungs were straining rather than bellowing as they should, and the inherent and instinctive act of breathing wasn’t exactly an option right now. But I was under water, and the water was my home.
Above the surface, nothing made sense, beneath it, everything did.
I loved swimming, had always loved it. It was the reason I was at this new school. Though I hated change, I’d change anything in my life to be able to swim more, to improve in my sport.
It was also why I was being drowned. Or was it waterboarded? Wait, that only simulated drowning. This was the real deal.
Hazing sucked.
My lungs began to strain just as I was pulled out of the water by my hair, and as I caught some gulps of air, I fully expected to be slammed down beneath the surface once more.
Only, Maria didn’t.
She let me catch my breath, but didn’t relinquish her hold on my hair.
Because that didn’t exactly bode well and the agony in my roots paled in comparison to being drowned, I just focused on getting more air into my lungs.
Sure, I could fight, struggle, and end up restrained and further tormented, but that wasn’t in my nature. I wasn’t going to let someone kick me while I was down if I could help it, but some people, if you fought them, they just hurt you harder. It was easier to let them burn off the initial aggression and then keep out of sight.
Half a childhood in the foster care system had taught me that. Better to deal with a bruised eye than a busted nose and a broken arm for back talk—that trade off wasn’t as uncommon as you might think. And Maria? She was wicked. That glint in her eye, the bitter snag to her lips as she’d taken me down—she loved this. She wanted my fear, and me? I was stubborn enough not to give it to her.
So maybe it made me stupid.
Maybe, when she’d taken me down, I should have at least tried…but I hadn’t wanted to give her the satisfaction.
God, I was stupid.
I could hear their laughter and snickers of amusement around me, like what they were doing was the coolest crap ever. Hell, and I thought I led a boring life.
If this was their idea of entertainment, I was doing something right with my days.
Apparently deciding that I’d had enough oxygen, Maria shoved me under, and millions of air bubbles fluttered and popped around my body. There was something calming about the sight, even if I should be finding nothing calm about this situation.
When my lungs started to burn, I finally closed my eyes and centered myself. They weren’t intending on killing me, so I knew they would let me up soon.
As I’d expected, I felt the fingers gather in my hair and the roots stung harder though that felt impossible, forcing me to prepare myself for freedom. This time, when my head was pulled free, tiny droplets of liquid splashing around in a fine spray that was reminiscent of diamonds, I opened my eyes and saw him.
At first, I thought he was a mirage. My lungs were straining, my body’s craving for oxygen starting to trigger what hadn’t been triggered until now—panic. The boy hadn’t been there before, was all I could think. I’d have known. Even oxygen deprived, I’d have recognized him.
He strolled in like he owned the place, and when he didn’t even blink at the sight of me, nor at my face which had to be red, my cheeks ablaze, my eyes streaming with tears, the way they were clustered around me, Maria’s hand in my hair the way it was, I knew he was one of them.
But then, ‘one of them’ meant the entire swim team.
When the boy blinked, breaking the connection between us, I felt the loss like a death inside me. I breathed through the break of our union, absorbing the fracturing that came with the loss, and as extreme as that sounded, that was the intensity of that moment. That bond.
Maybe I was hyperventilating or hallucinating or...whatever happened when your head was repeatedly held under water for minutes at a time.
Maybe he didn’t even exist at all.
I almost hoped he didn’t, because if he was here, then he was more of a nightmare than a dream.